The Prime Minister is Pregnant with Dragon's Seed - Chapter 11

As soon as Chu Huaiyin left, Meng Zhou’s face collapsed. He fell back onto the bed with a grin, secretly plotting something big.

His investigations over the past two days had been quite fruitful—he had basically locked onto his target.

Meng Huaihan had tried to steal the chicken but ended up losing the rice—she had failed miserably. Meng Zhou had no sympathy for her anymore. The twisted expression on her face yesterday overlapped perfectly with the cold, mocking look in the yellow-robed girl’s eyes in the pond side when he first arrived here. A chill ran down Meng Zhou’s spine.

A fourteen- or fifteen-year-old girl could be this vicious? He had overestimated her humanity and had nearly fallen into a pit of no return.

At first, his wet nurse had been blocked by Zhou shi’s people, and then by Chu Huaiyin’s. Now, seeing Meng Zhou curled up alone in bed, she was extremely worried. “Young Master, are you alright?”

With trouble happening to Meng Huaihan, the wet nurse was afraid that something would happen to Meng Zhou as well.

“I’m fine. Has Meng Huaihan woken up?”

“She woke up early this morning. She was shouting and smashing things at Madam Zhou’s place—everyone in the household heard her.”

Meng Zhou shifted a little, felt that he was okay. Chu Huaiyin’s technique needed work, but the medicine he gave was good.

“Where are you going, Young Master?”

“Lets check on Meng Huaihan. I’m afraid she’ll cause another scene.” Meng Zhou thought he needed to find an attendant with some martial arts skills. Otherwise, It was truly pitiful how he had to handle everything on his own.

Then he sighed at the cost of things in the capital—and happily gave up the idea.

In Zhou-shi’s room, shattered porcelain and overturned tables littered the ground. After taking two hard slaps, Meng Huaihan finally quieted down. She sat with her face covered, saying nothing.

Zhou-shi scolded her in bitter disappointment: “Why are you acting crazy now? You’ve brought shame to the entire Meng family! Mother told you not to think about Prince Huai! You don’t understand how the court works, and yet you—you! Meng Huaihan, why didn’t you think of your mother and brother! Your brother is about to discuss a marriage—what decent girl would still want to marry into this household?”

“Mother! Your daughter is about to be married off to a brothel’s bouncer, and you’re still only worried about Brother’s marriage…” Meng Huaihan’s lips trembled, hatred simmering in her eyes. She gripped Zhou-shi’s sleeve, veins bulging. “It’s all because of Meng Zhou! If it weren’t for that bastard, I wouldn’t have ended up like this!”

“You should’ve strangled him at birth! Letting him live until now has brought disaster to your own daughter!” Her words were no longer coherent. Ridiculously, Zhou-shi even agreed.

“Yes… back at Guang’en Temple, Jiang Yao actually survived—and even gave birth to that bastard Meng Zhou! I deliberately sent away the midwife and even sent a servant to provoke her. Who knew her life was that tough?” Zhou-shi sneered. Well, maybe it was for the best—if Jiang Yao had died too quickly, who would she have taken her resentment out on?

“If you hadn’t gone and provoked him, we wouldn’t be in this mess!”

“Mother, I did it for Brother! You have no idea—those noble ladies, when you’re not around, they ask me about Meng Zhou. They say he’s promising, that he’s truly worthy of being born from the Meng and Jiang families. Brother has been away from the capital for years. They all think Meng Zhou is the Meng family’s heir!”

Zhou-shi’s eyelids twitched. Meng Huaihan had hit a nerve. What she hated most was that Meng Zhou had taken what belonged to her son. She was the one who first married Meng Fushan and gave birth to his eldest son. But all of that couldn’t compare to the Emperor personally granting Jiang Yao and Meng Fushan’s marriage. Those high-ranking capital ladies might call her Madam Meng to her face, but behind her back, they all mocked her as the discarded wife. If Jiang Yao hadn’t died, when would it ever have been her turn?

“Stop wailing. When your grandfather arrives, we’ll find a solution.”

Meng Zhou hadn’t expected that just by hiding outside the door for a moment, he’d overhear Zhou-shi spilling secrets from over a decade ago.

That servant had intentionally tried to cause Jiang Yao’s death—mother and child both!

His freshly trimmed nails scratched a gouge into the polished pillar. A bee buzzed around him, he waved his hand to drive it away in annoyance, not wanting to make any noise.

“Who’s there?” Zhou-shi may have done too many bad things, so she is very sensitive to her surroundings. “Xiaoxia, go check it out.”

Meng Zhou imitated the sound of a cat a couple of times and slipped away unnoticed.

Meng Huaihan could barely take care of herself now. Until the Zhou elders arrived, she likely wouldn’t cause more trouble.

Meng Zhou thought back. When he tailed Boss Huang, he once overheard him drinking with an out-of-town guest, vaguely calling him “Brother Zhou.”

Was this tied to the Zhou family’s going to capital?

He shelved that clue for later. Right now, his bigger concern was the batch of weapons—suspected to be linked to the Liu family.

The Liu family were newly risen military commanders, in charge of the capital’s defense and four gate inspections. Meng Zhou once passed by their training grounds—brimming with weapons, the field vast. The family head, Liu De, had earned the Emperor’s favor and was given a generous title. Thus their training ground was on par with the Jiang family’s.

On the surface, it all seemed legitimate—with Ministry of War approval, the training ground could forge weapons and train soldiers.

But Meng Zhou discovered their weapons had the exact same finish as those used in the gambling house. Every mine had unique composition—slight differences in the metals would show in color, shine, and hardness. Ancient smelting couldn’t remove every impurity, so these flaws remained in the final product.

Most people wouldn’t notice. But since Meng Zhou had recently paid more attention to weapons, he had gotten into the habit of tapping and comparing every one he saw.

After General Jiang’s death over ten years ago, Liu De had taken his place as general. Unfortunately, his military talent wasn’t great. At first he held the line, but the longer he dragged on, the more battles he lost. In the end, Chu Huaiyin was sent to the front, and Liu De had to submit his resignation in disgrace. For some unknown reason, Emperor Tianyuan kept favoring him and summoned him back to the capital to cultivate him rigorously.

If the Liu family were hiding something, their control of the capital’s forces would pose a major threat to Chu Huaiyin.

According to the news, Liu De was gravely ill and wouldn’t last much longer. The Emperor had expressed concern and was intending to pass his title to his eldest son.

Before Meng Zhou could devise a plan, Liu De unexpectedly passed away that morning. White mourning banners now draped the Liu residence, with officials arriving in droves to offer condolences.

Meng Zhou was naturally among them.

Liu De’s eldest son, Liu Hongbao, was a plump, simple and honest-looking man. He tried his best to prepare for the funeral. His eyes swollen and rimmed with dark circles. Everyone praised him as a filial son.

That was just the surface.

Everyone in the capital knew the Liu family, emboldened by imperial favor, acted like tyrants in private. Their training ground had likely been stained by the bl00d of countless innocents.

Meng Zhou overheard Liu Hongbao quietly telling the steward: “Sort through Father’s things. Burn a batch tomorrow.”

In Wei customs, the seventh day after a person’s death was when all the things they used were burned—to comfort the deceased’s spirit in heaven and to tidy up the household and remove bad luck.

On the third day, people usually only burn some paper houses, paper money, gold ingots, and new clothes.

Liu Hongbao was eager to burn old possessions. Was there something he needed to hide?

Disturbing someone’s funeral for no good reason was taboo. Meng Zhou wouldn’t act unless he was certain something was fishy.

After asking around, he ruled out disease first. The next morning, the wind was strong. Standing downwind of the Liu estate, Meng Zhou soon saw bits of ash drifting in his direction.

He heard Liu Zhong scolding a servant: “The wind’s this strong, do you want to burn the house? Ash everywhere, it’s choking me—cough, cough…”

Meng Zhou squinted into the distance and spotted a small scrap of white paper. He followed its movement, chasing like a fool, until it landed—on a luxurious sedan chair.

He actually ran to the front of Shixiang Pavilion.

The sedan chair’s owner clearly had status. Meng Zhou didn’t dare climb up—as otherwise it would be like riding on someone else’s head. Some people were very concerned about these customs.

He looked at the sky, then the ground, and waited boredly for the wind to blow the scrap down.

The scent of food from Shixiang Pavilion was inescapable, and Meng Zhou felt personally attacked.

Hunger struck suddenly, draining all his strength.

Two ragged beggars passed by, breathing in deeply, faces blissful but not daring to linger.

When passing by Meng Zhou, one of them said, “New here, brother? Don’t stick around. The waiters will chase you away soon.” He lowered his voice, just enough for the two of them to hear. “Last time, one of ours fainted from hunger—right where you’re standing—and got run over by a guest’s carriage! that scene made me scared shitless.”

Meng Zhou glanced down. He had been so focused on chasing the paper that he hadn’t noticed—a tree root had torn a big gash in his robe.

Had he really fallen so low that even beggars pitied him?

Clutching his stomach, he realized he’d been hungrier than usual lately. After standing here for so long, he was on the verge of fainting. To avoid repeating the tragedy from the beggar’s mouth, Meng Zhou decided to get something to eat first.

Shixiang Pavilion was way beyond his budget. He turned his attention at the bun shop across the street.

Perhaps it was because the steamed fish in the restaurant’s kitchen had just come out of the pot, and a fresh and rich aroma suddenly hit him. He could picture the creamy white meat, dipped in golden sauce, topped with finely chopped green scallions.

Fish—oh, how he craved it.

Suddenly, buns seemed so bland.

Just as he was about to flee before temptation overpowered him and he spent Prince Huai’s money on a feast, Ji Yang appeared in front of him.

“Prince Huai invites you to dine with him.”

Meng Zhou thought he must be hallucinating from hunger. He swallowed hard. “Can you say it again?”

“…Prince Huai invites Young Master Meng to dine with him.”

“Is thid his sedan chair?” Meng Zhou asked. Had he known it was Chu Huaiyin’s, he wouldn’t have wasted so much time.

“Yes.”

Meng Zhou followed Ji Yang. As they passed the sedan, he tripped and bumped into it. It trembled with a loud thud and nearly toppled. Right before he hit the ground, he braced himself with one hand so that he won’t fell too badly.

“Young Master Meng!” Ji Yang quickly moved to help. Was he so hungry he passed out?

“Forgive me for the embarrassment. Let me wash my hands.” Meng Zhou opened his dirty palm and gave a bitter smile.

While Ji Yang asked the waiter for a basin of water, Meng Zhou peeked at the slip of paper he’d grabbed. He had deliberately bumped the sedan so the scrap would fall—then he hidden it between his finger.

If he can’t make it in the future, he could always fake an accident in the street—lie in front of Prince Huai’s carriage and score a luxury meal.

The edges of the paper were scorched black, leaving only a red seal in the middle.

Zhou Han… something?

The rest of the name had been burned. Meng Zhou took a quick look and tucked it into his belt.

“What took you so long?” Chu Huaiyin asked.

“Young Master Meng fainted outside just now,” Ji Yang quickly replied.

“What? Should we call the imperial doctor?” Chu Huaiyin frowned at him disapprovingly. Don’t run around if he is still not recovered.

Meng Zhou gave a pitiful look. “I just simply skipped breakfast and felt weak from hunger.”

Without waiting for Chu Huaiyin to say anything, Meng Zhou asked again: “Can we start eating?”

With permission, he reached out his chopstick to a plate of fish, his eyes sparkling—like a starving kitten seeing a basket full of fresh fish, pouncing without hesitation.

Likes to eat fish.

Chu Huaiyin quietly noted that. Under the table, his hand twitched—resisting the little urge to help pick out bones.

…Hmm.

Why did he need to note that?